Beside
by chi-of-ink
Summary: This world's Sakura is not a princess, and Syaoran is not a warrior...AU-genderswitch, fem!Syaoran. shoujo-ai. one-shot SyaoSaku.


No matter what world she resides in, Sakura will always be a warm person. No matter what universe she faces, Sakura will always put her heart into everything she does.

In this world, Sakura is not a princess, and Syaoran is not a warrior (of course, in a sense, that will never go away, but with no teacher comes no learning, and the impressive movements that once gave another world's Kurogane such easy landscape for instruction is narrowed down to almost nothing here.) But Sakura in this world is as warm as ever, thirteen years old and dressed head to toe in white silk.

Her innocent eyes have a life of their own, glowing happly as she runs to her favorite person's house, ribbons woven through her hair and silver-white sash bouncing. Syaoran doesn't sleep in like Sakura does, and she knows this, althought the comic skid of her heels and tentative pause before she knocks on Syaoran's door does indicate her easily-conjured worry of interupting a possible dream.

Footsteps tap, and Syaoran answers. Sakura chews her lip and beams at the familiar face as it comes into view, the soft amber eyes and soft pink mouth and the light bruises and dirt that's somehow fresh all over again every time. Syaoran can blush a thousand times over when the silence goes on too long, but the perfect thing to say is never there, so Sakura hugs her friend tightly around the middle, uncaring if her pretty white clothes are stained at all by the action.

She doesn't let go until Syaoran hugs her back.

* * *

Syaoran isn't self-hating in any way. She takes care of herself, though her skin has always been tougher than Sakura's, she can wonder and explore for hours while Sakura always watches where she steps. Any bumps and bruises always find themselves under Sakura's careeful scrutenty, though Syaoran tries to be careful for that very reason, she just tends to me more _unlucky_ than Sakura is.

To clairfy: this world's Sakura is not a princess, and Syaoran is not a warrior.

Syaoran is, however, fourten years old, five feet and four inches tall, and completely, utterly female.

* * *

They met at a young age - Sakura was surrounded by other girls, friendly peers and pretty faces. She always seemed drawn to lonely voices, however, even if those lonely voices didn't actually speak at loud. That's why not even a minute managed to pass before she tip-toed her way up to Syaoran, smiling hopefully, hands tucked behind her back.

Syaoran held herself upright, but the tightness in her shoulders began to give away her true timidness. Her light brown hair was chopped in thick bangs and tangled down to her shoulderblades. Her eyes were amber - in any world, perhaps, Syaoran's eyes will always be amber - but her pretty, pretty mouth and bold lashes left little room for any natural roughness to give her gender question.

She was really quite cute, and when Sakura said so, her olive skin brightened to a dusty pink and her hands clasped loosely around her mouth. "I-"

"I'm sorry!" Sakura had gasped with such sincerity that her friends fought back giggles. "I embarressed you! I'm sorry..."

"It's nothing." Syaoran tried to insist, palms turned out.

"No! Really. I want to be your friend..." she blurted out. "Can I...?"

"O-of course!"

"I'm glad!" and then her nimble white fingers reached up to her temples and with a few tugs, two of the ribbons weaved in her headband came free. "Syaoran-chan, these are for you!"

* * *

Sakura wanted to braid her hair.

Of course, Syaoran always let her.

She talked lightly and dreamily as her fingers worked, and Syaoran sometimes felt herself nod off against that soothing voice. The white ribbons she tied at the ends of the two long braids she wove low by Syaoran's ears.

"Can I say it looks cute...?" Sakura asked in a shy whisper, a fine spray of pink standing across her nose. "If that's okay Syaoran-chan..."

"Y-you can." she managed, and her voice felt so _high. _When Sakura hugged her goodbye, her knees actually buckled.

* * *

Fourteen years old, and Syaoran didn't think she was anything special to look at. She had never even really thought about that, actually, until Sakura became her friend.

Perhaps it was the close-knit throngs of girls sharing time and secrets together that prompted such seperate thoughts. Perhaps it was the boys of this world, more alood, more serious, with the resigned air of protecting female companions in their futures.

The boys trained bodies fit to protect with, stronger arms and sharper jaws. Even the friendiest of them understood their role, slightly set apart, gentlemanly.

Sometimes, the role of a girl felt so _soft. _So quiet. Her small breasts gave her figure a cute swell, something that made her face catch sudden fire when curious eyes dipped downward. But they were never the eyes she wanted.

Syaoran's form was shaped well from her adventerous nature, but it would never be shaped in the strong, sturdy lines the male defenders had.

Sometimes, Sakura's trusting eyes made her feel helpless, not safe.

Because Syaoran stood _beside_ Sakura, not opposite her. Because in this world, she knew certain things were not so easily accepted.

Because...

* * *

"I _like_ you."

She was happiest beside Sakura. She was warmest with Sakura's hands tucked into hers, with Sakura's soft cheek resting at her neck. The words are soft and almost strangled as they pass under a tree with peach-colored blossoms. Sakura turns and tips her head to one side questioningly, a smile all ready and set to bloom on her face.

Syaoran is wearing a skirt to match Sakura's, because they're walking to lessons together and she knows Sakura always finds a tiny thrill when their belts are tied the same way. The wind blows at the edges, making the pleats catch and settle like a wistful sigh.

"Syaoran-chan?"

"N...nothing."

And then Sakura is close, way to close - Syaoran takes half a step back but her ankle bumps something and she doesn't want to turn to see what it is. Sakura gathers her fingers up between their chests, like a prayer.

"Syaoran-chan is sad..." she whispers, more so to herself than her friend.

"I'm not sad." Syaoran protests, a wild feeling billowing up in her chest. "Really. Sakura-chan, I could never be lonely around you."

"Are you lonely?" her question overlaps, and the tiny pain flickering in the corners of her mouth makes Syaoran feel like a tiny hand is squeezing her heart.

"N..." she trails off. Sakura is looking at her expectantly. Fearfully.

"I _like_ you, Syaoran-chan. I don't want you to be lonely."

"...yeah." she manages. The peach blossoms flutter all around, coming undone like little paper cut-outs fluttering from a scrapbook. Sakura's eyes are liquid jade.

"I like you too."

* * *

She knows she shouldn't feel the way she does. Sakura is such a caring person. There are so many people she offers her kindness to. But sometimes she just can't help it. She can't help but want to protect her. She can't help but want to belong to Sakura, and let Sakura belong to her. She can't help but want to cherish her.

They pour over books together, lessons and scripts. Syaoran likes to trace the sweeping, curling lines of their world's texts, memorizing every ancient dip and the seamless way it translates into different dialects. She's a clever girl, sitting with her knees tucked under her, laughing when Sakura eagerly makes random guesses at the next pages.

Sakura's thin, white arms prop herself up as she leans forward, fingers splaying like crane feathers. A shard of skin peeks between her short socks and gown, a peek of a slender ankle. Her hair is bare of ribbons now, because she's tied the rest idly around Syaoran's wrists as they work. The white bows still reside in Syaoran's braided hair.

Sometimes, Syaoran falls asleep with them still in, and she scrambles to iron out the creases the next day before she can forget. Many nights she thinks of Sakura before she closes her eyes, wondering what she's doing, what she's thinking about.

She would never have the courage to admit this aloud, if Sakura hadn't said the same thing first.

* * *

It's after class when they find a shady spot to rest, Syaoran's face feeling brilliantly red as her friend's head tips to lean against her shoulder.

Slowly, she reaches to find her hand, to scared to move and ruin the moment, blindly searching until somehow Sakura's fingers collide and interweave.

"I want to protect you." Syaoran says. It comes out of nowhere, and yet it seems to have been wavering at the tip of her tongue for months.

"You do." Sakura says, unmoving. Syaoran stares at her white shoulder, the shadow under her jaw where her first button is undone. "Syaoran-chan. And I'll protect you too."

There's such a indescribable _yearning_, a feeling that jumps up her viens and makes her vision blur at the edges. _That's not what I meant,_ she wants to say, but she doesn't, because there's birds calling sweetly across the azure sky and Sakura's beginning to doze off.

"I'm in love with you." she whispers, surely to quiet to be real, and she doesn't know if Sakura hears, but her other hand dreamily raises to Syaoran's chest, fingers splaying cleanly over where her heart beats two times too fast. Her wrist bends a little where it rests against the slope of her breast, and Syaoran watches how it rises and falls when her breath hitches. _I'm in love with you, but I'll never get to tell you. Not really._

"Sssh." Sakura breathes against her, holding her, motionless in the leafy shadows. "I'll protect you, Syaoran-chan."

There's more to it, invisible words tacked into the air, and Syaoran closes her eyes until the shameful tears on her face are dry and Sakura's hand warms the space on her chest, threading unspoken love past her skin and through her blood and straight into her heart.


End file.
